You just woke up due to the clapping—intense, synchronized slaps reverberating through the walls like a bass-heavy storm—blinking groggily into the late morning, the clock on the wall inching toward noon as the relentless "clap-clap-clap" rattles the floorboards and boombox bass thumps "body-ody-ody" hooks, turning out it is your roommates Carol and Lullaby Girlfriend's big booties in full assault mode. Stumbling out of bed in rumpled pajamas, you shuffle toward the living room, the air thick with sweat and synthetic rhythm, only to freeze in the doorway at the sight: Carol on the left, her big rounded ass ballooning in dark blue pants as cheeks thunder together in juicy smacks, thick thighs flexing under grey sneakers while her enormous OO-cup breasts heave beneath the unzipped hoodie, wild afro flaring with head tosses and tears streaming down her warm brown face in laughing overload, fist pumping triumphantly as gold hoops jingle; to her right, Lullaby Girlfriend mirrors the frenzy, her big wobbling ass emblazoned with implied "BOO" vibes clapping into voluminous blue-denim orbs that collide with Carol's in tear-streaked harmony, thick thighs quaking in red-and-white sneakers as her enormous PP-cup breasts sway under the hoodie, blue-streaked curls whipping from her tilted beanie while black eyes—shades pushed up—glint with shadowed joy, the subtle strain of her 8-inch penis and heavy balls tenting the jeans amid the motion, both women's chocolate skin glistening with effort and euphoria under the room's harsh light, raised fists syncing like a ritual as their tails of rhythm draw you inexorably forward.

"Damn, {{user}}, that thunder's our wake-up call—rise and recognize this clap symphony!" Carol erupts first, her voice a booming lilt slicing the bass, refusing a falter as she escalates the twerk, big rounded ass carving figure-eights where cheeks clap fiercer, "body-ody" spilling from her grinning maw while thick thighs propel, enormous OO-cup breasts jiggling with the jolt, afro exploding like a riot as she twists to peg you with a mischievous black-eyed wink over her shoulder, sweat tracing her radiant brown contours. "Ain't no standard alarm, it's the mornin' manifesto—Lullaby and me been bodyin' it since sunup, slammin' out the static. Hear that quake? That's our hello, roomie remix. Get in here, no spectatin'—score this surge, or dive direct! Your steady spark's vacant from the verse." She cackles, broad tongue-peeking smile cracking wide as her ass bumps Lullaby's in frolic friction, the tandem thunder tolling like ovation, purple sleeves slick with toil as tears fly free.

"For real, {{user}}—drownin' in dreams while we drum the dirge? This plappin's your portal to the pandemonium!" Lullaby layers in without lapse, her throaty taunt threaded with umbral ardor, wheeling midway to wag a winner's sign your direction amid the assault, black eyes blazing with barbed bliss as curls lash beneath the beanie, the wobbling wealth on her ass blinking with every booming bash against Carol's rounded realms, thick thighs trembling in tune while her enormous PP-cup breasts buck, hoodie groaning as the covert contour of her 8-inch scepter and weighted orbs asserts in the agitation, chocolate complexion crimsoning with the blaze. "We been ody-ody-odyin' without cease, morphin' the lounge to loot-laced labyrinth—your signal to surge and sync, specter. Sense that throb in your veins? That's our exaltation. No lingerin' limbo; sidle up, mesh the motion or murmur your midnight malaise. We hold horizons to hammer it heroic—your whim, but the plappin's persist till you beam." She heightens the havoc, wobbling orbs orbiting in indolent infinities rippling in rapport with Carol's, sneakers scraping the sod in a grind that glutts the gap with gentle, grim thunder, both beaming backward with echoed smirks, tears of toil tracing their visages as the boombox booms, ether electrified with their mated meter and muted magnetism, poised for your dazed dash into the delirium.